From Broken to Healed: The Moment God Met Me in the Dirt

I didn’t plan on meeting God that day.

But in the middle of a piece of desert land, sitting in the dirt with nothing left to give, He met me there.

And everything changed.

I grew up in church. I was an incredibly shy and insecure child. Things happened in my young life that broke me. I learned not to trust anyone and believed I was never enough.  Never enough to be anything, really. And especially never believing I could ever live the things I had learned as a child.

Eventually, I just stopped trying.

Broken, I began to give in to whatever crossed my path.  I kept repeating the same thing over and over in my head, just to keep myself from falling apart, from letting anyone see how shattered I really was.

“I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care what happens, I don’t care.”

I must have said that a million times. It became my shield. The only thing that helped me put one foot in front of the other. To hide the pain I carried everywhere I went.

I believed in God, but I didn’t trust Him anymore. I didn’t talk to Him, either, except once in a great while, I would say, “Hold onto me, God” and quickly turn away.

I was sure He had abandoned me because of the things I was doing, and honestly, I didn’t care anymore.  

My heart was hard. I learned how to numb the pain.

One thing I became very good at was hurting others before they had a chance to hurt me.  I kept everyone at a distance.  No one got too close.  I disappointed people over and over until I believed no one really cared what happened to me anyway, and I decided I was fine with that.

So much lost time. So many moments I can’t even remember, except for the pain. Except for the emptiness.

I felt completely alone. So alone.

Then one day, something happened.

I was in a terrible car accident in Dallas, Texas.  I ended up in the same hospital President John F. Kennedy was taken when he was assassinated.  I was treated and released, but my car was totaled. Just like that, I was stranded, no way to get to work, no way back to my apartment.

I had no choice but to find my way back to Las Vegas to try and get on my feet again.

This is one of the times where my memories are a little blurry. I believe I went to Washington State first to stay with my older sister for a few weeks. She was married when I was in first grade and I didn’t grow up with her, but she welcomed me.  I wasn’t easy to live with. I would take off and stay out all night, never telling her where I was or when I’d be back.  I don’t remember how long I stayed, but I’m sure I wore out my welcome. I believe she loved me even if I didn’t believe anyone really did.   

So, I left, and headed back to Las Vegas, where I grew up and my mom was.

She had fallen on hard times after marrying a con man after my dad passed away. He took everything she had and what belonged to me.  She was living on the grounds of Echoes of Faith church, in a trailer. Our relationship was rocky, but I loved her, and I respected and loved the pastor. 

Bertie McCoy was the pastor, and she was like family to me. She was one of the only people I never wanted to disappoint. She had loved me since I was a little girl, and she never stopped.

Since I was staying there for a time, I thought I should go to church on Sunday, in respect for Bertie.   It was hard, really hard.  I would sit in the very back row and run out the moment the service ended.

But she never condemned me. She just loved me.

One Sunday, I don’t even remember what Bertie preached, but for the first time in years, I felt something. I felt the tug of God on my heart.

It was supernatural. I couldn’t ignore it.

I did what I always did, I ran out the door.  But this time, I didn’t run away.

I went out into the middle of the church property, out into the desert. I sat down in the dirt, and I cried for the first time in years.

What I’m about to tell you is why I love Him the way I do.  Why I have never stopped loving Him, no matter what came after. 

I literally felt His hand reach into my heart, my hard heart, my broken heart, and begin to pull things out. The pain.  The hardness.  The hopelessness.  The rejection.

All of it.

I stayed there in the dirt for hours.  I didn’t move.  I didn’t want to move.

I stayed there until He was finished.

He took it all.

And I have never, ever been the same.

It’s also why I wrote the book about Bertie’s life, Never Ending Love & Grace, when God asked me to.

God knew exactly what I needed, and He knew exactly who would love me that way.

He brought Berite back into my life because He could trust her to love me, no conditions, no expectations, no strings attached. Just real, steady, unwavering love.

And through her love and grace, a door was opened for Him to heal my heart and to show me He had never left me, never stopped loving me, no matter how far I had fallen.

He loves you with that kind of love. You don’t have to earn it or do anything to make Him love you more. All He asks is that you give Him the chance to change your heart, like He did for me.